


super A-levels

by sleep_pronoia (nap_princess)



Series: original characters I used to only draw but now write about [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, F/M, Honestly idk what this is but it was drafted in 2014 so BEGONE, Implied/Referenced Suicide, OT3, Romance, Soulmate AU, University AU, fics based on my real life, shitty romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/sleep_pronoia
Summary: They always did have bad timing– Quinten/Rowan/Ignatius, timer-system soulmate AU (but no one walks away a winner)





	super A-levels

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 1: Featuring –
> 
> (1) Rowan – that chick who wants to be special but is hella average and thinks she has problems
> 
> (2) Quinten – the brooding guy who actually has problems
> 
> (3) Ignatius – the best friend and cinnamon roll
> 
> (4) Dixon, Bobby and Darius – other friends

**super A-levels**

* * *

****

* * *

**i**

* * *

Her timer couldn't have gone off at a worse time. But it happened, alright,  _it happened_ ; in a large hall, surrounded by hundreds of students, just as the orientation speaker had dropped the microphone. The sound had caused the crowd to groan and touch their ears, and for her to drag her eyes elsewhere.

It had also caused Rowan to miss the beep of her countdown; the stupid thing that told her about her fate without using words, just numbers. And by the time she had noticed it, it was too late.

Rowan was supposed to meet her soulmate, but –  _God_ , she was not ready. It's not that she didn't know she was meeting her soulmate _today_  – the thing on her wrist was  _a timer_ for goodness sake! It counted down the exact number of days and hours and seconds for her to meet whoever this person was. It's just –

She's got  _problems_ , you know? Self-loathing. Anger issues. And she wants to work on that. Find herself. It sounds like bullshit, but she's aware of how she is. And right now, she doesn't like who she is, so she's  _certain_  her soulmate won't like her too.

(Rowan  **refuses** to approach 'the love of her life' until she's better.)

And she was here (at university) to find herself while shaping and reinvent whoever the fuck she currently is; she had cut her own hair, dyed it with streaks, dressed the way she wanted to. It was  _liberating_. It was the freedom she's always wanted.

She knows she's making it sound all about herself right now, but she's not that careless. Sure, she likes taking the easy-way-out most of the time. It's called 'being convenient' for a reason, but, it's not like she  _didn't_ think things through!

Rowan  **knows**  who her soulmate is –  _despite_  the poorly timed microphone drop,  _despite_ the possibility of her significant other being  _anyone_ in the mass crowd,  _despite_  everything – Rowan knows, okay? She had felt  _it_ , beating in her chest and deep in her gut, the moment her eyes landed on  _him_ , it was love at first sight  _for her._

* * *

"Q, are you okay?" Ignatius asks, pulling Quinten from his fixated gaze.

It takes a moment. Then –

"What?" Quinten asks.

"Are you okay?" Ignatius repeats himself, touching his glasses briefly.

Quinten blinks, gathering his thoughts. Right.  _Right_. He's at the local U. Moving his hand away from his ear and cringing at the hum of the microphone, Quinten finds his hazel eyes sliding back to the impossibly tall blonde and Dixon who's a seat away from him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Quinten answers, shrugging. He's trying to act nonchalant.

Ignatius's cornflower blue eyes linger and his mouth opens, exposing the slight gap between his front teeth. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me, Iggy. Everything's fine, okay?" Quinten replies, his finger now twisting in his curly brown hair. He's unconvincing. So much so that even Dixon is raising a brow now.

Ignatius's gaze does not falter. Quinten expects further questioning and even some prodding from Dixon until Ignatius says, "Okay"

"Okay?"

"Okay." Ignatius nods. He says it so casually like everything was right in Quinten's world (when it hasn't been in a while).

* * *

Quinten's noticed that the timer on his wrist has stopped, reading 00:00:00.

He's missed it. He's missed his chance. He _should_ be disappointed, but a triumph smile only stretches on his face. It's rare. So rarely does he smile.

Quinten's glad, he doesn't want to meet whoever this person is. He knows it sounds selfish, but he'd rather live his life alone. He resents the 'soulmate matching system', he thinks it's flawed. He's thought so ever since he was a kid, since he lost someone near and dear to him – one of his best friends.

 _Are you disappointed in me, Lloyd?_  Quinten thinks to himself.  _I'm sorry, but I don't want to meet my soulmate._

Quinten should be shooting his shot. He should be conquering love. He should be living his life. But, he's doing none of these things. Instead, he's just sitting here, wasting his time. He wishes he could change places with Lloyd, Lloyd would have been better at this. Lloyd would not hesitate in meeting his forever person. Lloyd would not hesitate in love, he's wanted it since he was old enough to understand the concept.

But, Lloyd can't do any of these things, even if he wanted to. Because when Lloyd was twelve, he had committed suicide. All because of his timer  _cracking_. All because of a stupid 'wristwatch' telling Lloyd and the world that his soulmate had died before they even had a chance to meet.

That fact broke Lloyd (and it haunts Quinten).

The brunette can't help it, the memories come back to Quinten even after all these years, playing in his head like a song stuck on repeat. Til this day, Quinten blames Lloyd's death on the  _bloody match-making sham_  that nobody asked to be part of.

 _It haunts him_  – oh! Quinten still remembers; every year on Halloween, without fail, Lloyd would dress up smartly in a tux. He had wanted to be a groom so badly. And now, Lloyd's dressed in a tux for all of eternity, sleeping in his casket, buried six feet under.

* * *

**ii**

* * *

Quinten doesn't know how he's never noticed  _her_ before. Now that he's  _looking at her_ , he notes how she stands out, her hair alone is odd enough to make people double-take. To be honest, her style makes her look like an art student; her fringe cut in weird angles and the highlights in her hair are bright and eye-catching.

Hazel eyes squint, Quinten's learned from Ignatius that her name is Rowan, and she hadn't always been someone he's noticed.

In fact, for the longest time, Rowan's been a person shoved somewhere in a corner of his mind. Quinten's always considered her as someone  _in the background_. Rowan had her own circle of friends, she spoke up when presented the opportunity (but rarely said anything that stuck) and she did her work. At first glance, she was average. Maybe  _slightly_ above average at best.

But, then, today, that changed.

There was a spat between two students; some guy that Quinten never paid attention to (on the accounts that he had a nasty temper) and someone who Quinten assumes is one of Rowan's friends (Derrick? Darius?). The argument was heated, one that drew all eyes and made everybody pause.

Quinten was a little annoyed at the disruption of such a nice environment. He even had the mind to say, 'Right, let's just relax, shall we?'

But then  _she_ catches the corner of his eye. It wasn't the hair or the clothes but this  _flash of fury in her dark eyes_. It was a split-second thing, an expression he didn't think he'd ever see her show (funny, because that unspeakable anger was the very reason he didn't remember the other guy's name but –).

He even saw Rowan take a step forward, shoulders squared and fists ready, but then another friend – Barbie? Bobby? – stopped Rowan from doing something she'd regret. The gesture had pulled Rowan out of her trance. Quinten pin-pointed the moment Bobby's hand landed on Rowan's arm, causing all the anger on her face to melt.

Rowan blinked – it was like she didn't even realise what she was doing – then she noticed Quinten staring at her. They locked eyes.

On the outside, it may seem like they were in those terribly sappy romcom movies. But in truth, Quinten just didn't know where else to look and Rowan's glare was honestly  _frightening._  That is, until she blushed from the sudden attention.

Fortunately, the fight was broken up quickly by a member of the university staff.

Quinten didn't have to say anything. He didn't have to approach her or explain his awkwardness. But, ever since then, he's always noticed her. She was always there. _Just there._  It was no avoiding it.

* * *

"You should go spend time with them." Ignatius says, out of the blue – blue like his eyes – while they're chilling in his dorm room.

Quinten snaps his head. "Who?"

Ignatius taps his wrist, indicating he knows about the zeros on his best friend's own wrist. "Your soulmate."

"Uh –" Quinten stutters.

"You've met whoever this is, right? You've met your 'other half'?"

Quinten only knots his brows together, fingers finding its way twisting in his brown, curly hair yet again. A habit. He doesn't respond.

"Or, 'the one'. Whatever you would want them. You haven't told me anything." Ignatius points out.

"There's nothing to tell." Quinten shakes his head. "I haven't met them."

"What? But, your timer! But – I –  _Why?_ "

At that moment, as soon as the question slips out of the strawberry blonde's mouth, Quinten locks his gaze with Ignatius.

"You know why." Quinten answers.

_Lloyd._

Ignatius bristles, adjusting his glasses just to do something. "You –"  _Can't be serious?_ "Q, you don't know  _anything_  about your soulmate. You don't know what they're like and you don't know what your life will be like with them. You can't let someone else's soulmate define what your life can be like! It's your life! It's your soulmate! It can't be  _that bad_!"

"What's your proof?" Quinten asks.

"Look at Dixon!"

"You just said not to let someone else's soulmate 'define my life',"

Ignatius throws up his hands, wishing Dixon was here to back him up. "You know what I mean! Dixon's changed since he met – Wait, I'm not letting you distract me. I don't understand you sometimes."

"What don't you understand?" Quinten prods, feeling himself become protective. "What is it? What do you want from me?"

"Nothing!  _Nothing!_  I just – I wish that you wouldn't –"

" _What_?"

Ignatius reaches over, exposing his palms. His hands move as he talks. "You're my  _best friend_ , Q.  **I**  want  **you** to be happy."

"That's the problem, Iggy, you're always putting me first. You're always worrying about me."

"With the way you're acting, how can I not?"

"Yeah, well," Quinten says defensively. "No one asked you to. No one told you to put your happiness before mine."

A frown finds its way on Ignatius's face. "I'm not."

"Really?"

"Yes." Ignatius insists like his patience is running thin, like this friendship isn't worth it. "But, I'm standing by what I said. I wish you didn't limit yourself. Why won't you let yourself be happy?"

"I  _am_ happy." Quinten groans.

 _No, you're not._  Ignatius thinks.

"Do you really think 'love' is going to 'make me happy'? Do you think it'll solve everything?" Quinten asks, now crossing his arms.

"No, I don't. But, I don't think it could make things worse either. You haven't tried it so you wouldn't know if it could be the greatest thing that's ever happened to you! I'm asking you to give it a try. Please." Ignatius almost begs, then adds. "I would."

Quinten feels like screaming. "Why?"

"Because, it would be an insult to Lloyd if I didn't." Ignatius answers, and Quinten swears all the oxygen in his lungs left. Under his breath, Ignatius repeats himself like he's swearing an oath, "I'd do it."

* * *

**iii**

* * *

"Status report, Ro-ro. Have you found your darling yet?" Darius's deep voice rumbles, too eager for Rowan's liking. If Bobby was here, she would pass a look of annoyance and judgement at the tan boy.

"What? No? You saw me when you had that argument with What's-His-Face, I was  _so mad_. I swear, if Bobby hadn't held me back, I would have thrown hands."

Darius cocks his head before asking, "And that stopped you?"

"From beating the living shit out of someone? Yeah. No duh, Bobby's way taller and stronger than me. I'm a  _Hobbit_."

"No, I mean," Darius shakes his head. "Your understandable need to throw hands stopped you from pursuing your soulmate?"

"I don't think you're seeing what I'm seeing – my anger issues," Rowan reminds. "I have to handle it."

"Why?"

"Anger. Issues."

" _Dude_ , it's not like you exploded or had a melt-down. The emotion you expressed that day – bro, you were angry  _for me_ , I was in a fight – of course, you wanted to defend me." Darius says. "Tell me the truth. Why won't you talk to the guy? You said it yourself, you're one hundred percent sure he's 'the one', why are you holding back?"

Rowan feels her eyes roll back so hard she thinks she almost sees her brain. "Okay,  _fine,_  since you want to be unbelievably cheesy, I'm gonna say it's because –  **I'm afraid**. What if I scare my soulmate off?"

"With your 'temper problem'? You won't. No matter what, your soulmate will be there  _with you_." Darius says, he's truly a believer of love.

Rowan frowns. "How do you know?"

"They're  _your soulmate_ , they're supposed to be there _for you_. You've got a whole lifetime together to figure out how to sort your issues."

Anxiety gathers in her chest. "But, what if –"

"Oh, you worry too much." Darius says.

" **I** should be worried." Rowan answers and  _oh_  – She wishes Bobby was here. The tall girl is usually the rational one out of the trio. Well – Darius is a brilliant person, but he has his flaws too. He thinks Rowan deserves 'better' (whatever that meant). But, Rowan doesn't. She knows damn well that she's still got a long way to go, still got a lot to fix. " **They** should be worried." 

"What's there to worry about?"

"I'm an angry person, Darius." Rowan finds herself repeating, she feels like a broken record, like a parrot. "I'll blow up. I'll make them worry."

"You don't know that."

 _Yes, I do._  She thinks.

Sometimes Rowan wonders why she even talks if no one listens. She doesn't want to be the villain when she meets the person who's unconditionally supposed to love her for the rest of her life, she doesn't want to appear ugly while she charges like a bull with horns. She wants to be holy, like a fucking saint.

"Have you ever seen me angry?" Rowan asks, wanting to shut down the conversation as quickly as possible. She wants to go straight for the jugular. She wants to go straight to the point.

"Yeah." Her friend echoes, unconcern.

"Okay, rephrase,  _have you_  ever been on the receiving end of my anger?  _Do you_  want to be on the receiving end?" Rowan asks, and when Darius doesn't reply, she adds. "See. You know I'm bad. You know I can be scary, so, what if I'm bad for them? What then? What do I do then?" Rowan asks.

And, once again, there is no reply.

* * *

Rowan sighs and lets her feet wander, purple sneakers slapping on tiled floors. She's walking around aimlessly.  _Something_  is pulling her, she feels like a blind follower being led, and she doesn't have the strength to fight back.

She feels like she can't do anything about it. Her head is swimming, thoughts  _everywhere_ , and she doesn't know when she stopped walking but she's stopped. And now she's just standing at a fixed spot, staring at it unblinkingly.

Why?

Rowan shrugs to herself. She's never been to this part of campus before. Something tells her "stay" but like most things – rules that are not meant to be broken and advice that needs to be followed – she turns a blind eye. She's already leaving when the sound of footsteps approaching catches her attention.

Her dark eyes stare at the person. Suddenly, her words are stuck to her throat and nothing enters her mind. It's blank, but by a miracle's chance, she manages to squeeze out a high pitch greeting.

"Hi!"

The person freezes like he's surprised too and stares back at her. Then a nervous smile slowly spreads upon his face, like butter melting on hot toast.

"Hello," Ignatius greets back in a small voice.

Rowan can't help but return the smile at his politeness.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, his cornflower blue eyes studies her. His long fingers hooks around his wrist, it's shaky. And it's hard for him to not fiddle but he does.

She's silent for a moment, wondering why –  _Why is he so nervous?_  But then it registers to her that she has to answer. Ignatius is close friends with  _her soulmate_ , after all, she can't mess this up.

"Ah – !" The sound escapes from her lips but her mind is still as blank as it was seconds ago. "I'm not sure. I think I was bored. I think I wanted to take a walk."

"Okay," He says.

"What about you?" She asks politely, tilting her head. It makes her uneven fringe fall into her eyes, she's tempted to fix it with her fingers before deciding to blow it out of her face.

Ignatius's blue eyes glazes over at Rowan's action, moving his gaze to settle somewhere on her face. His eyebrows squeeze together, like he's thinking. The blonde reaches upwards to comb back his hair then stops like he distinctly remembers something.

"Sorry, what?" He asks. Did he zone out for a hot second?

"I mean, what are you doing here?" She rewords her sentence.

"Oh, um." Ignatius hums in reply, sounding still confused. "Uh," His eyes drift elsewhere, catching glimpses of people walking around. "I don't know. I don't know why I'm here."

 _Huh._  Rowan thinks.  _Strange._

"Do you come to this spot often?" She says without thinking.

Blue eyes flick around, looking anywhere but at her. Rowan lets her eyes wander too but then they drift back to stare at him.

"No." He answers finally, voice still low. "This is the first time I've come here. I just had this feeling, like – I don't know how to describe it – it pulled me here."

"O – Oh. That's neat?"

Ignatius doesn't respond, causing Rowan to worry about the silence and slight awkwardness.

Is she ... Is she supposed to say something else? More? Rowan tries to think,  _what else?_  But nothing comes out. So she shuts her mouth and pretends to enjoy the scenery.

Ignatius puts his elbows on the railings and leans over, making his figure slightly shorter and hunched. His arms are covered in freckles, just like the rest of his body.

Rowan catches sight of his exposed wrist, his timer no longer counting. "Shouldn't you be spending time with someone else?" She asks.

"Who?" Confusion fills his face.

"Uh, the love of your life? Sorry, I shouldn't have but I noticed your timer, it's at zero so …" She doesn't expect him to give her an answer. She has no business knowing despite asking, despite being uncharacteristically nosy.

"Oh, well, the thing is … I don't know who they are." Ignatius answers.

"What?" Rowan gaps.

"It stopped before I could meet them. I was distracted, I wasn't paying attention and they just slipped away." His shoulders jump, an attempt at a shrug but it had too much effort put into it. Too much tense muscles. Disappointment. "I doubt they're looking for me, you know? If they were, we would have found each other by now."

"Oh, I'm so – I'm sorry. When was this?" The question comes flying out her mouth before she can even register it.

"Huh?" Ignatius turns his head, blonde brow raising itself.

" _When_  did it happen?"

"A few months ago. On orientation day when the microphone dropped."

Something hits Rowan in the chest. This  _overwhelming_  feeling. No.  _No._  She thought – This is all  _wrong!_

A frown finds itself etched on her lips. She's so – She's so  _angry_ at herself. How can she be so –! Careless! So stupid! Has she been chasing the wrong person all this while? Has she been dreaming of the wrong man?

Rowan's eyes go dark, filling itself with a silent rage as says nothing back.

"Rowan?" Ignatius reaches over to touch her shoulder, the same reassuring way Bobby did when Rowan was angry. His slender fingers wrap around her and – it's  _warm._ But also  _burning._

"You said you felt something pull you here? Today? Like a reason?" She asks, her questions sounding like it's one long sentence. She is breathless and voice sounds strained. "It wasn't just random, right?"

Ignatius's face twists – is that worry he's feeling? "Um, n – no? I mean, yes. I mean, I did have this feeling and it was random. Why? Is something wrong? You look –"

"No! I –  _No_. Everything is fine, it's just – I –" Rowan stumbles. "I have to – I have to go, I just realised that I have  _this thing_  and I – I have to leave," Her fingers start pointing to the direction of her exit to emphasize her leaving.

She turns without saying anything else, shaking off his touch. She hears his attempt to reach out, but then there is only quietness.

* * *

It's no surprise that she is lonely. She's been isolated for a long time with no one to talk to, only for fantasies to live with, to keep her occupied. But she feels like she's been waiting  _for love_  and  _for eyes to meet_  for a very long time.

She wants him to speak to her with love in his words (but  **she's scared** ).

* * *

**iv**

* * *

Quinten thinks they're drifting apart – him and Iggy. And that should be ridiculous, because they've known each other for practically forever, since they were seven years old, before Lloyd killed himself. And they're supposed to be best friends.

But, Ignatius hasn't been the same since Quinten told his friend to put himself first. He shouldn't be irked, he's the one who told Ignatius to do it, but …

"Aren't you worried?" Rowan asks Quinten while they're supposed to be studying.

He looks over at the short girl. He started talking to her not long ago. He doesn't know why, there was just this  _sudden urge_  to do so. This pull. Maybe he wanted to fill in the gap Ignatius had left? Maybe it was just inevitable for them to not cross paths? Rowan had seemed eager enough when he made the first more. Quinten would like to think that she enjoyed his company.

(But Dixon says, Rowan acts like she wanted to distract herself from something.)

"I couldn't give half a shit," He tells her.

And – oh, she doesn't know why. Rowan truly doesn't, but she laughs in response. People often say they couldn't give two shits or a shit. But, Quinten's completely done. She just finds it funny that he's blunt in his own way.

Rowan laughs so hard that she snorts. Actually  _snorts_. Then she's embarrassed.

There is some expectation to him reacting. But, what she did not expect, is for him to find her embarrassment amusing. She sees the corner of his lips curl upwards, likely a rising smile (a rare sight), but then he turns his head abruptly towards the side, hiding it.

" _Hey_ ," Rowan says. She sounds like she's scolding him lightly but, in truth, she  _really_  wants to see that smile.

And this time, he cannot hide the fact that he's grinning because he lets out a snort. It's game over.

"Stop laughing at me." She scolds again, reaches over and shoves him lightly.

Quinten _stumbles_ but he  _does not fall_. He does, however, give her a pointed glare, looking at her like he's trying to take a peek into her soul.

Quinten finds that Rowan is a kind person. She's creative and helpful and always ready to fight for the people she cares about. But, just like any other human being, she has flaws. She's the type of person who likes fantasy more than reality. She daydreams a lot. And there are times where she chooses what is convenient rather than what is true.

Rowan is not an option. She shouldn't be. But, if she was …

Quinten still has his issues; six years worth of it. He's still mourning over a death. Even if Rowan is someone important in his life, she shouldn't be responsible for his bullshit. And, he doesn't know if she's the type of person who can handle him.

.

.

.

(But he wants her to be.)

* * *

There's no doubt about it. She is the greatest thing that's ever happened to his life.

.

.

.

(Ignatius was right.)

* * *

She's walking ahead of him and she turns her head every so often, making sure she's looking at him as she guides him. He already finds himself reaching out to touch her, making sure she doesn't wander too far away from him.

.

.

.

His hand is holding her shaky knuckles in place, and it's comforting and reassuring. She looks up from the floor and realises he's in love (with her). So so so fucking much in love. She doesn't even know how to put it in words. But it is  _strong_  and  _pulsing_  and  _there_.

"Rowan," He says.

Her mouth feels dry. She doesn't know what to say. So she simply calls his name in return. "Q – Quinten?"

"Rowan, I have to tell you something." His voice comes out in a serious whisper. Her eyes go wide, panic sets in. This feels  _too real._

"Sounds scary." Is what she says, she can't help it.

"It's understandable. It's about a ghost." He tells her.

She doesn't feel so good. She's – "I'm scared."

.

.

.

He tells her about Lloyd.

* * *

**v**

* * *

"I've been hanging out with this girl," Ignatius says.

(Suddenly, Ignatius is back in Quinten's life and Rowan isn't. But it's university, student life can get hectic and busy. Quinten didn't react that badly when Ignatius left for a while.)

Quinten's eyes snap towards his blonde friend. "What?"

"I think she's my soulmate."

"You  _think_?" Quinten's eyebrows squeeze together. He's confused. "What do you mean? Did your timer beep when you met her?"

"Maybe." Ignatius shrugs. "I didn't hear it."

"Wha – You – If you didn't hear it, then how do you know it's her?" Quinten gaps. Iggy doesn't seem fazed by the look on Quinten's face.

"I don't."

* * *

"I love you." He says.

And Rowan stares.

They are both young and he's in love and he feels like they truly don't need anyone else in their world. To him, it could just be the two of them and they would be completely content.

It was obvious that he is in love with her, just hearing him speak to her is proof enough. His tone is always kinder than usual. He is the warmest person she knows.  _Warmest_. And for her to feel cold and lifeless in his arms is wrong. All wrong.

But, this is what she wants, isn't it? She's got him wrapped around her finger because she never wants to be alone.

Her lip quivers, and just before she responses, she thinks, _God, I hope it's you._

* * *

**vi**

* * *

It was perfect timing – that was what Quinten convinces himself when he saw her  _Facebook_  post saying:  **FINALS ARE FINALLY OVER! If there's anyone who wants to meet up, just message me :)**

He immediately counts the number of likes and reactions – enough to note several others who are  _also_  excited to hang out with her. Then he looks at the comments, sees a few eager messages that won't make him look pathetic.

* * *

He sees her waving and he finds himself automatically beaming.

"Hi!" She says.

"Hey," He returns and she moves in to give him a friendly hug.

She is warm. He wants to cherish every moment; her hair tickling his skin, her small hands around his back, face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Then she withdraws from the hug, hands moving to grip the sling of her purse. He is still smiling.

But then his hazel eyes catch her long, slender fingers. Her golden painted nails draw attention to her hands, which draws at attention to the ring that sat on fourth finger.

His wide smile is immediately gone.

.

.

.

(So it wasn't perfect timing.)

* * *

With careful, watchful eyes he follows the movement of her hand; currently in a fist and tucked under the hollow of her jaw, ring hidden.

"So," She says, showing no sign of noticing his staring. Or, maybe, she did and chooses not to acknowledge it (like how she chooses to  _not_  say a word about her probable bloody engagement).

He's bitter. But, the hopeful part of him hopes she thinks he's simply daydreaming and staring off into space, and, thus, waking him up.

"So." He repeats, forcing his eyes to her grinning face. He commands a small smile.

"How are you?" She asks.

"Good." He answers, resisting the urge to ask 'And you?' so she'd tell him about the person who proposed. He wants this over and done with. "Life's been boring for me." He tries to make an effort, tries to sound like he isn't  _hurt_. "Nothing _significant_ happened. Just dull weekdays and duller weekends."

The smile on her face remains. He wonders if he's caught any of his hints.

"And you?" He finally says. "Anything  _big_  or  _unusual_  happen?"

"Um," She rearranged the fist under her chin lightly. She twirls her black hair, absent from bright highlights. He wonders _if_  she's changed since he last saw her. He wonders  _how_  she's changed that fast. "I had like this  _very lucky thing_ happen last week."

Last week?

Did he miss his chance by  _a week_? Seven freaking days?

"It was a good day." She adds.

"Oh?" He hums through gritted teeth.

"Are you okay?" She straightens her posture, lifting her head away from her hand. The ring is now in full view. It's not even  _that pretty_  – gold with three pearls on top. It was a glaring issue. "You look tense. The veins on your neck are showing. What's wrong? Are you resisting the urge to cough or something?"

"I'm fine. Just – I guess I'm not used to taking the day off. Exams just ended so my body is still tired out," He brushes his issue off. He stares at her mouth, remembering once upon a time that it was curled into a snarl. He does not want to upset her. "Tell me more about your  _special_  day." He says but it feels like he's digging himself a hole to die in.

"Oh, uh, okay." She brightens. "But, it wasn't special per se. It was just a good day, you know?"

 _Sure_.

…

And just like that, the day is over with him forcing a smile and her niceties fading to discomfort.

"I loved you. Did you know that?" He declares, shocking her.

"I …"

.

.

.

_I'm scared._

.

.

.

"I …" She loves him too, she really does (in her own way), but he doesn't mean _everything_  to her. He  **can't**  mean everything to her. Ignatius is so  _sweet_  and  _hopeful_  and  _stable_  while Quinten is still  _looking at the past_ , and  _always sour_  and _frowning._  Rowan came here to  _grow_ , to  _move on,_  she cannot do that with Quinten. She knows it's selfish, but she wants to be  _better_  (she just doesn't know if she deserves better).

He hunches over, shoulders slumping little by little, and she watches him try to squeeze his tall figure into a tiny one. He's trying to hide, to disappear. It almost looked like he was trying to make himself small like he was  _afraid_  she'd blow up at him for confessing his love so he's trying to make himself look non-threatening.

She said she has problems, maybe it's not the anger (or _just_ the anger), maybe it's (also) the selfishness. The matchmaking system is flawed, but not everyone knows that, people believe in it _too much_ , they encourage her to do crazy things (like accept a proposal to someone she's known for less than a year, because love is crazy, _right_?). So she will no longer hold back from taking the things she wants.

"I'm sorry, Quinten." She tells him. She  **refuses**  to be like him or with him, it would be true but miserable. Darius is wrong, Rowan can't be there for Quinten.

He doesn't even hide his crumbling sadness. He looks at her like he knows she's wrong. "You are such a cruel person, Rowan."

She does not reply. Cannot reply. She may be cruel to the man she loves, but she is crueller with herself.

* * *

**vii**

* * *

"Is something wrong?" Ignatius asks, snapping Rowan out of her daydream.

She turns to him, blinking her eyes. "I … I don't know." She answers honestly.

His eyebrows dip with concern and his hand reached over, squeezing her knuckles. It is a kind gesture, reassuring and familiar. And she brings his hand close to her face, smelling the scent of dish soap lingering on his skin, before kissing each mountain of his knuckles.

"I'll be okay." She tells him. "Don't worry."

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 2: One section of this was from a draft I wrote from 2014 and my writing was not changed – like at all. This is as good as my writing will ever get.
> 
> And I say one section because I opened a draft labelled under 'prologue' and a mere paragraph was written. I can't believe myself! I had three folders sorting out the trilogy like I had it all figured out and the prologue only has A PARAGRAPH! 2014-me, what the fuck? I mean, I think I sort of understand. I either draw my characters or I write about them, rarely do I do both, and I drew them a bunch so it makes sense that never got around to writing them. But, I did talk about it – A LOT.
> 
> (or maybe I wrote it on paper and lost it?)
> 
> I originally made this AU when I was 18 and it was way more complicated than this. For one, there were eight different types of soul mate systems. You can see why I decided to not do that. Too many explanations. This whole thing was supposed to be a trilogy, each year representing a year of studies, and the ending was supposed to be a plot twist of 'omg, though it was hinted Quinten is Rowan's soulmate, it's actually Iggy!' I was an ambitious youngster, now I'm lazy.
> 
> – 20 May 2019


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